


Hope

by days4daisy



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Emotional and physical scars, Extra Treat, M/M, Physical Disability, Post-Rogue One, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9484268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: “Hope will guide you when nothing else does.”“Is that what keeps you going?” Luke asks.Cassian doesn’t answer.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atlanticslide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlanticslide/gifts).



The Death Star appears over Yavin 4 to the east. Within minutes, its looming shadow becomes a burst of light. Its devastation lingers in the days that follow; a trophy of destruction that hangs over the victors of the Death Star mission.

Four heroes stand before the Fleet: the princess, the smuggler, the Wookiee, and the farm boy. Beautiful. Proud. The new symbols of the Rebellion.

“They always pick the pretty ones,” K-2SO would have said. But Kaytu is dead. As is Bodhi Rook. Chirrut Imwe. Baze Malbus. Ruescott Melshi. Pao. Bistan. The SpecOps recruits.

And Jyn Erso.

Cassian tucks his metal crutch under his arm and joins the crowd’s thunderous applause.

***

Luke stands apart from the celebration. The party still finds him from time to time; hands clapping his back, drinks toasted over laughs. But he does his best to keep to himself.

He's still processing the past few days. Luke was just a boy back then, at home with Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. Suddenly, the Rebellion became all too real. It’s a dream come true; as incredible as stories of the old days: the Clone Wars, the Jedi, the Force, his father.

But in his dreams, Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were still alive. Ben Kenobi is gone too now. So is Biggs.

Luke’s thoughts swirl like the wine on his tongue. He still has Leia, R2, 3PO, and the Rebel Fleet. Even Han and Chewie are sticking around. (Until they fix the Falcon, Han claims.) Luke feels accomplished. His life finally means something!

If only Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru could see him now. If only Ben were here to continue his training. If only he and Biggs could reminisce about the old days.

It’s by chance that Luke’s attention lands on Cassian Andor.

The general is also alone, a safe distance from the the party. His right hand holds a tumbler of golden spirit Luke can’t identify. His left curls over the rounded head of his crutch. Even from a distance, Luke can see his scars; burn marks that line his skin like an elaborate tattoo.

He knows little about Andor. Only the few things he gathered during starry-eyed introductions to the Rebel Fleet. Cassian Andor was recently promoted to general after his rescue from Scarif. He was a member of the team that transmitted the Death Star plans to the Rebellion. The same plans Leia stored inside R2-D2. The plans that made this whole victory possible.

Andor is a war hero. He should have been on that stage with them! It's wrong that he wasn't, and it's wrong that he’s alone now, hunched over his cane like he has a comet on his back. A part of Luke wants to be alone. But a greater part won’t feel right unless he says thank you.

As he makes his approach, he wonders if it’s a mistake. Andor’s eyes are like iron, watching Luke cross between laughing Rebel soldiers. Closer, Luke can see the burns under the collar of his flight jacket. The red lines seem to reach for the stubble on his jaw.

Luke nods in greeting. “General Andor?”

“General,” Andor echoes, more scoff than spoken word. “Cassian.” 

Luke’s smile falters. “Sorry. Cassian. I’m Luke Skywalker.” He holds his hand out. A second passes before he remembers Cassian has his drink in one hand and his crutch in the other. Cassian’s brow arches. Awkwardly, Luke pulls back his hand. “I was on the Death Star mission.”

“I can see that.” Andor glances at the Medal of Honor on Luke’s stomach.

Luke clears his throat. “Oh. Right.” He pauses under the weight of Andor’s eyes. “I don’t want to bother you. I just. None of this would have been possible without you. What your team did...” He smiles. “You’re a hero.”

What little warmth lingered in Andor’s face drains. “A hero,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “No. You’re the hero, kid.” Cassian knocks back the remains of his drink. “Enjoy your party.” 

Andor limps past, weight braced on his metal crutch. Luke watches him go, mystified. What did he do wrong?

***

Cassian Andor’s limp may never go away, no matter how many follow-up procedures he endures. He may never be rid of the burns either, though they have faded considerably since he was found in the wreckage of Scarif. 

He both appreciates and dislikes the bacta-tank treatments. They soothe deep-rooted trauma suffered on the Rogue One mission. But the treatments also leave him exposed. He's forced to remove his prosthetic leg, his stub open to the stares of passing officers. The round of the stump is brown and hard, scarred tissue that will take years to soften. His prosthetic works well, but the damage to his pelvis makes it difficult to put any weight on his right side.

Cassian is glad for his injuries. Scarif isn’t something that should be healed from.

Word has begun to spread of the Fleet’s plans to relocate. The Death Star is gone, but their location is no longer a secret. A prolonged stay on Yavin 4 will only lead to more casualties. 

General Draven broaches the topic with Cassian carefully. Everything is careful with Draven these days. “There's a full medical wing on Hoth,” Draven assures him. “You can continue your treatments and work out of strategic command.”

“Resources should go to soldiers capable of contributing to the cause,” Cassian responds. 

“You’re capable!” Draven pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. His voice softens. “It’s your decision. But you won’t be putting anyone out, Cassian. That’s all I’m saying.”

Cassian offers a curt nod. “I’ll consider it, sir.” He still spits out the title, even though they match rank. Draven doesn't push the issue. 

Draven is right, of course. Many in worse condition still contribute to the cause. Cassian’s ailments may keep him from combat, but he can offer a wealth of knowledge to strategic command. He can only imagine what Mon Mothma’s reaction would be to the news. As if dealing with Draven daily isn't enough.

Cassian has not been to see her since his return. In light of Bail Organa’s recent passing, he should. He just...can’t. Not yet.

It isn’t that Cassian will find desk work unfulfilling. It isn’t even that he wants to avoid more attention on his physical condition. It’s the revitalization of the Rebellion. The culmination of the sacrifice Rogue One made. _Rebellions are built on hope_. 

Hope is here to stay now that the Death Star is gone. Leia Organa is already following in Bail’s idealistic footsteps. The smuggler and the Wookiee's combat skills served the Rebellion well. Then, there is Luke Skywalker; the kid with a dream and a name for the stars. The golden boy who destroyed the planet killer with a one in a million shot. Galen Erso was right about the reactor core. If only Jyn had lived to see her father celebrated as a hero.

But she didn’t.

Cassian left his hope behind on Scarif. He doesn’t belong on Hoth.

***

Cassian already knows his decision. But he’s still left speechless when the kid tells him, “You have to come to Hoth. We need you!”

He was already surprised by Skywalker’s sudden appearance at his quarters. Cassian let Luke in, not knowing what else to do. But he goes cold at the statement “You’ve given so much to the Rebellion,” Luke presses. “I want to live up to the work you did for the cause. We all do, general.”

“Cassian,” Cassian corrects. 

“ _Cassian_ ,” Luke parrots, just as terse.

Cassian sits on his cot, his false leg extended. Luke plants beside him without asking permission. Sandy hair sweeps his forehead; his eyes, large and expectant. 

Luke is so young. Too young for what the Rebellion will ask of him. Cassian was like him once. He's been with the Rebellion since he was six years old. What enthusiasm he once had was buried under the weight of his crimes. It was only through Jyn that he regained his hope. One final push to right the wrongs.

It was supposed to end on Scarif. He was supposed to end. “I’ve got nothing to offer on Hoth,” Cassian tells him. He tries to be gentle about it. His bitterness isn’t the kid’s burden to bear, or Bail’s next-in-line, or anyone else’s. 

“That's not true, Cassian.”

“You’ve got a command post that’s been around. They know everything I know. More, actually. And you need all hands on deck in an attack. I can’t do that-”

“You can!” Luke insists.

“I won’t,” Cassian amends, more forceful. 

He expects Luke's eyes to wander, like everyone else’s do. Seek out the scars. Settle on the bump of his prosthetic. But Luke’s eyes stay on his, still optimistic despite Cassian’s clear intentions. Cassian sighs. Did Draven put this bug in Luke’s ear? Or Mothma? Why else would he be here?

“You mean well, kid,” Cassian allows. “But I don’t belong on Hoth.”

“Kid…” Luke repeats. He stares at his own hands, palm up on his lap. 

Cassian scrubs his face. The last thing he needs is more guilt. “Yeah. _Kid_ ,” he says. “Own it. Once you lose that, you won’t get it back.”

“My father was murdered," Luke murmurs. "Did you know that?” Cassian didn’t. “Darth Vader killed him. And he killed my mentor Ben Kenobi. Stormtroopers killed my aunt and uncle to get the Death Star plans. They didn’t even know I had them. I left before my uncle woke up that day. I never said goodbye to him.”

As terrible as it is, Cassian can't bring himself to care. Everyone in this Rebellion has dead bodies. Few more than Cassian.

Luke is speaking again before Cassian can ask him to leave. “My best friend defected to the Rebellion. Biggs Darklighter. Did you know him?” 

Cassian knew Biggs. Biggs died in the Battle of Yavin, along with too many fighter pilots. Cassian knew every single one by name. He still has not mourned for them. Or Bail Organa. Or Rogue One. There are too many people to mourn.

“We’ve all lost parents, mentors, and best friends, Luke,” Cassian says. “But you believe. Hope will guide you when nothing else does.”

“Is that what keeps you going?” Luke asks.

Cassian doesn’t answer.

***

Luke waits at the mouth of the hangar bay until he can’t come up with any other reason to delay their departure. Most of the Rebel Fleet has already departed. The Falcon is one of the last remaining ships. 

“Come on, kid!” Han hails. “You hitchhiking to Hoth?”

Luke smiles, but it fades as he glances one last time at the empty entrance. He knew not to get his hopes up. But he can’t help the pit in his stomach as the Falcon's ramp rises behind him.

“You alright?” Leia meets him inside, hands on his shoulders and a worried tilt of her head. She always seems to know when something is wrong. It’s like they’ve known each other their whole lives.

Luke thought Cassian would be here. He's still so important to the Rebellion. They need him. Luke needs him! He may be a good pilot, but he doesn’t know the first thing about military strategy. Cassian could teach him!

Luke hates to think of him here. The last remaining soldier on Yavin 4, watching the Fleet he gave so much to leave him behind.

“Yeah, I’m ok,” Luke says, but emotion weighs on the words. He wishes Cassian was with them, but wishing for things doesn’t make them real. Leia understands somehow. She squeezes his shoulders in support.

They both look up when Han brushes past them. Leia frowns at his retreating back. “I thought we were leaving.”

“Picking up strays.” Han grins over his shoulder. “You tell the whole Fleet about this sexy ship, Highness?”

Leia scowls. “We’ll be lucky if this bucket of bolts makes it to Hoth.” But curiosity wins out. Luke and Leia follow Han back to the entrance ramp. A metal clicking announces a new arrival. 

“Welcome aboard, general.” To Luke’s surprise, Han actually straightens up. He offers Cassian a respectful nod when he enters. Cassian wears his standard flight jacket, a gray duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“I heard you had room,” Cassian says. Luke fights a losing battle against the grin on his face.

“Always, for you.” Leia greets Cassian with an embrace. It takes a moment for Cassian to wrap a tentative arm around her shoulders. “You didn’t want to shuttle with the rest of command?”

Cassian shakes his head. “I’ll get enough of them when we land, princess. As will you, I’ve heard.”

“We’re better off with you,” Leia says. Her smile is grateful as she squeezes his hands.

“Just keep your shop talk out of the cockpit,” Han warns them. “There’ll be plenty of time for strategizing once we land on this chunk of ice.” His hand rises to the comm link in his ear. “Yeah, we’re ready, what… All right, all right! Can it, fuzzball! Get the landing gear locked. I’m coming.” He starts towards the front hull, a wry smirk at the three. “Wookiees,” he grumbles. Leia rolls her eyes and follows him.

Luke freezes in place when Cassian glances at him questioningly. He wants to pump a fist. Enthuse over how lucky they all are to have him. He wants to shake Cassian’s hand. Embrace him. He wants to…

“Took you long enough,” Luke remarks.

Cassian actually laughs, a quiet sound behind a full smile. “Yeah, well.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Better late than never.”

Luke’s face lights up. “I’ll say.”

Around them, the Falcon hums to life. “Come on,” Luke waves for him to follow. “I’ll show ya around.” He leads the way down a hall. Every click of the crutch behind him echoes the excitement pulsing in Luke’s chest.

***

Luke isn’t sure where he is at first. It’s warm and bright, two conditions that are much different from the last thing he remembers. The cold of Hoth bit through his clothes. Ice burned his face. Darkness covered him like a blanket he couldn't claw out from under.

He remembers seeing Ben. Something about the Dagobah system. Yoda.

His dazed stare scans the ceiling for clues. Rectangular lights shine off drab white tiles, black vents rimming the upper walls. His cot sits in the back of the room. A blanket is draped around his waist, IV taped into his right arm.

“I’m not used to having company in here.” Cassian sits beside him, mouth curled in something like amusement. 

“Cassian.” Luke tries to sit up, hissing when the pain jogs his memory. His face is tight with scars, bruises aching across his cheekbone.

His lightsaber. It moved. Luke wanted it to move, and _it did_.

“Easy.” Cassian sits up enough to steady him. One hand rests on Luke's shoulder, the other over Luke’s hand. “You’re lucky Han was able to find you.”

Luke shifts to a more comfortable recline. His hand turns under Cassian’s palm, their fingers winding together. 

Cassian looks worried. “You ok?” 

“How’d they find us?” Luke asks instead.

“Had to wait until morning.” Cassian sinks back in his chair. His hand stays laced with Luke’s. “The storm took out our comms. We sent a squadron out at daylight. They picked up Han’s frequency.”

Luke looks at their joined hands in his lap. His own, flecked with bruises. Cassian’s, threaded with brown scars. 

What if Cassian hadn't come to Hoth?

Luke's grip tightens. “Thanks for checking on me,” he says. Cassian shrugs like it’s nothing. They both know it isn’t.

***

Mandatory bedrest gives Luke plenty of time to think. Luke thinks about returning to base after late night scouts. Cassian, pouring over data feeds in the command post. He always looks tired. And determined.

***

He thinks about Cassian and Leia, camaraderie shared in bright stares. They clash often, political savvy to military strategy.

“Bail was right about him,” Leia mutters to Luke in private. It sounds like high praise. 

***

Luke thinks about Cassian's interest in his lightsaber training. “We thought the Jedi were dead,” he says.

“My father was a Jedi,” Luke answers with pride. “I’ll be like him one day.”

He expects Cassian to be a skeptic like Han, trusting his blaster more than the Force. But Cassian is surprisingly open-minded. “Kyber crystals,” he murmurs, glancing at Luke's saber.

Luke frowns. “Kyber?” 

“Powers your lightsaber.” Cassian's hand tightens on his crutch. “Powered the planet killer.”

***

At shift’s end, Cassian finds Luke where he often does. Everyone has retired to their chambers other than the skeleton overnight shift. The cargo bay is empty, a rectangular door spilling light into the otherwise dark room.

The lightsaber carves through shadow. The practice laser whirs, a game meant for young soldiers to test their reaction skills. Cassian trained with one too when he was a boy. He learned to block incoming shots with shield plates on his arms. Protect the face and throat. Duck and cover.

Luke uses the machine to improve his instincts with the saber. The dark room is intentional. Luke wants to feel the movement of the blasts without tracking the device by sight. He wants to go where the Force leads him.

Cassian spies a sliver of his face illuminated in blue. It's like he weighs nothing when he wields the weapon. His feet barely make a sound on the concrete floor. The blast toy clicks and buzzes. The kyber sword purrs.

Cassian thinks of Chirrut. Could the old blind guardian have been a Jedi in a different time and place? Wield the type of power Luke holds so easily in his hands?

There is an energy around Luke. It draws people to him, elevates his causes. The kid has been through so much, but he's retained a light that Cassian can't explain. He and Jyn would have been fast friends. Who knows the type of trouble they would have gotten into.

The saber’s light extinguishes. The laser toy becomes silent, landing on the ground next to Luke’s feet.

“You’re getting better,” Cassian observes.

Luke emerges from the shadows. Fading bruises linger on his cheek, but otherwise, he seems well. His black shirt and pants fit close to his body. He smiles at Cassian; a small, tired expression. “Not good enough,” he says.

The pessimism isn’t like him. Cassian frowns, easing more of his weight against his crutch. “It will be,” he replies. “You’re working at it.” Luke nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. 

Words were never Cassian's strong suit. His leadership was silent, duty proven by action. It was Jyn’s words they followed. Jyn, who always seemed to know exactly what to say.

Cassian places a hand on Luke’s arm. “The Force is with you,” he tries.

Luke’s next smile looks more like himself. He glances at Cassian’s hand. “You’re with me,” he says.

Cassian nods. He's with the kid now, for better or worse. His thumb traces the seam of Luke's sleeve.

***

“You staying long?” Luke and Cassian are two of four individuals left inside the command post. Cassian sits at a console along the far wall. His red eyes follow a scroll of readouts on a holo-screen. A data pad sits in front of him, marked up with digital scrawls.

Cassian sighs and rubs a pinched hand over his eyes. “We’ve got to crack this probe language. Kay could have…” Cassian trails off, hand over his mouth.

Months ago, Luke would have jumped in to ask all about this Kay. Was he a friend? An old droid? But Luke has learned to read Cassian’s pauses. Some invite Luke to follow up. Others, like this one, should be left alone.

He places a supportive hand on Cassian’s back. It covers the nape of his neck, a rub into pinched shoulders. Cassian’s skin is warm under Luke’s touch.

“I can’t keep looking at this,” Cassian mutters. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Han thought he saw something on his scouting run earlier,” Luke mentions. “He and Chewie are taking a closer look in the morning.”

Cassian nods. Luke feels the motion under his palm. “Leia told me," Cassian says. "They’re hoping it’s a bogey, but the Empire has been sending out probes. If that’s what this is, we’re as good as found out. Might be time to move.”

“Tomorrow is now,” Luke reminds him gently. “They’re heading out in a few hours.”

Cassian sighs again. “All right,” he murmurs, an amused glance over his shoulder. “If you’ll stop hovering.”

Luke pulls his hand back before Cassian can feel it shiver. “Hey, someone’s got to when Leia’s not around.” 

Cassian tucks his data pad into his jacket and grabs his cane. “Leia works twice as hard as I do," he says. "I’m the one who has to tell her to sleep once in awhile.”

“If she listens to you, you’re already one step ahead of me,” Luke jokes. Together, they leave the command post. Gray slab halls connect it to the officers' quarters.

“She _doesn’t_ listen to me,” Cassian remarks. “Lives up to her last name.” 

He pauses in front of his own door, digging for the key. It’s a black rectangular card with a gleaming blue data chip. He waves it in front of the door. An answering lock snaps, and the door slides open.

“You knew Bail Organa?” Luke asks. 

“Oh yeah. Got on my last nerve.” Cassian smiles. “He was a good man. And he raised a good kid.”

Cassian is talking like he’s in the twilight of his life. But it’s true, in a sense. Cassian may not be much older than any of them, but he’s lived through enough for two or three lifetimes. After all this time together, maybe Luke should feel less in awe of him. He doesn't.

Cassian's quarters are simple and neat. A cot with one flat pillow. A meager metal prop-up seconding as a desk. One lamp; a flat, oval bulb aimed at the ceiling. 

“You staying long?” Cassian asks, an echo of Luke's earlier greeting. But with more insinuation behind it.

Luke's laugh comes out strained. “Your setup is nicer than mine,” he admits. When the door snaps shut behind them, Luke feels it in his chest.

Cassian eyes him. Flustered, Luke offers, “You must be tired." Even to his own ears, the words sound childish.

“I am,” Cassian remarks wryly. “So are you. We don’t sign up for the Rebellion to get a good night’s sleep, kid.” Luke remembers the warmth of Cassian’s neck under his hand.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Cassian adds quietly.

“Why not?” 

“Because you shouldn’t.” Cassian is trying to be gentle with him. His eyes are soft behind their tired circles.

Something dark and hollow opens inside Luke. What if he never becomes a Jedi? What if he can't live up to the promise Ben saw in him? What if everyone who came before him sacrificed for nothing? What if Luke is guiding everyone around him to the same fate, Cassian included?

Cassian is right. He shouldn't be here. There's too much at stake, too much work to do. “Forget it,” Luke mutters. He stalks past Cassian to the door. 

A hand closes around his wrist, forcing him back. Cassian’s stern expression waits. “This is why you shouldn’t be here,” he says. “You think too much of me and not enough of yourself."

“What are you talking about?” Cassian starts to respond, but Luke doesn’t let him. “What do you mean, I think too much of you? That’s not possible.”

“You want a mentor," Cassian argues. His expression lacks its usual control. "You want someone to look up to. I can’t be those things. I never could, Luke.”

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t, though. I don’t want any of that!” The unasked question hangs between them.

It’s true, Luke did want a mentor after he lost Ben. A hero of the Rebellion. Someone to look up to. But he stopped thinking of Cassian like that a long time ago. Cassian is someone who doesn’t deserve to be left behind. Someone who’s brilliant but doesn’t realize it. Someone as driven as the most dedicated Rebel officer. Someone who's figured out how to wake up every morning against all odds. Sometimes, Luke has trouble doing this much! He stares at his ceiling and sees Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. He imagines Biggs stopping by for a chat. He feels Ben’s voice inside and out.

Luke isn't like Cassian. Not even close. How can he be strong enough for the Rebellion if he can't even be strong enough for someone he respects? Someone he cares about, maybe too much?

Cassian smiles wearily. "You're so much like her." He doesn't say who he means.

Luke takes Cassian’s hand. He's going to be refused, and Cassian will be right to do it. Luke isn't enough for the Rebellion, and he isn't enough for Cassian. He knows that now, but he still lowers his head. He's ready to be hurt. Just not yet.

He jumps when he’s embraced without warning. The end of Cassian's crutch bumps gently against his legs. Cassian’s arms tighten, a tremor in his hands. It's a plea for something. Luke isn't sure what, but he returns the gesture immediately. Luke tucks his face against Cassian's neck. He feels Cassian's breaths shaking, hard and unsteady.

Cassian kisses his hair so carefully that Luke almost misses it. He returns the gesture, lips touching the scars scaling Cassian’s neck.

Luke doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t need to. He's here. And Cassian is here. Cautiously, excitedly, Luke begins to hope again.

*The End*


End file.
